


something old and new

by kuwabara



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Animated Universe (Timmverse), DC Extended Universe, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Chronic Depression, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, heavy on the comfort, lois loves and supports her boys, pillow princess bruce wayne, vaguely established polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18758791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuwabara/pseuds/kuwabara
Summary: [Watching him like this, snoring lightly with a pillow pulled against his chest, Clark was beginning to realize that Bruce didn’t sleep lightly and rise early in the morning out of nature, he did it out of will. What he saw before him was a slow and lazy riser, someone who slept like it was all there was in the world. And there was something Clark rarely saw on Bruce; he was relaxed, and he wasn’t fighting against himself. He just slept.]Bruce isn't feeling his best, so Lois tells Clark to go be with him.





	something old and new

**Author's Note:**

> un-beta'd, let me know if you spot a mistake o/
> 
> this doesn't really fit into any specific universe, feel free to see whatever you want ; )

Lois pushed a cup of coffee across the table while she sat. “You’re not yourself, lately, Clark.”

He looked up at her—a double take, almost, he was so used to filtering sound in and out, he reacted on impulse and then doubted for a split second that she’d actually said something to him. “Not myself?”

She smiled, wanly. “Come on, Smallville.”

He sighed into the coffee she’d given him. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I should’ve said something…I just—thought it wouldn’t be so obvious, or I’d feel better at home. I don’t know.”

She sipped her own cup. “What’s going on? Off the record.” She winked behind her coffee. It roused a small laugh from him, a little huff of breath out of a dimpled smile.

The expression leaked out of him, though, filtering away through a quiet sigh. He looked down at his hands for a moment, his lashes brushing his cheeks while he blinked. “It’s…league stuff, I guess,” he started.

Lois tipped an eyebrow. “League stuff, or _Bruce_ stuff?”

A guilty smile crinkled into the side of Clark’s mouth. “You know me too well, Lois,” he said. He was almost sad about it. That plated smile stayed on his mouth and he looked up at her. She was smiling gently back at him.

“I’m not bothered by it,” she reminded him.

He nodded. Didn’t say anything.

She sipped on her coffee and prodded him again. “There’s more to this than just _Bruce,_ Clark. You’re practically gloomy. What’s going on?”

Clark sighed deeply, thoroughly—purposefully. He squared his shoulders with the breath. “It’s…it sounds kind of stupid,” he admitted. An ounce of his daily bravado was back in his voice— not the Superman kind, but that easy and self-assured tone Clark Kent used. A bit of his real self. Lois nodded at him to get at it. He took another breath for himself. “It’s just…” he looked away, rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, Bruce is…sad, lately. Not in a bad mood, like he might normally seem to be. He just seems…genuinely down. It’s bothering me, I guess.”

“You’re upset that he’s not doing well.”

“…yeah.”

Lois looked at him like he was a fool, and Clark’s chest squeezed into itself with love for her. “That’s not stupid at all,” she told him. “That’s just love.”

Clark put his chin in his hand, just a little forlorn. “Well, that’s what’s got me in a slump, I guess,” he murmured.

“You’re not going to do anything about it?”

He looked over at her. “What do you mean, do anything about it?”

Lois sighed, and she drank the rest of her cup, and she got up and shuffled over to Clark. She stood behind him and hugged around his shoulders, her cheek against his head. “Stupid boy,” she said. “Go be with him. You’re both sad and apart from each other, and frankly, I’m doing alright despite it. You won’t do anyone any good staying here tonight.”

Reverently, his eyes closed and his head tipped back against her, Clark said, “I love you, Lois.”

She kissed his crown and told him, “I love you, too.”       

🦇

Bruce was in his room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed. For a long time, his eyes were unfocused, aimed somewhere near the ground, taking in hapless information while his head buzzed. He wasn’t even thinking, really. It was like white noise. Processing sight felt like white noise, too. It was just there, just noticeable enough. He looked out the window. Blinking took more time than it should, but he was tired, and he’d worked for a long long time. A bird was starting to build its nest a few yards away from the manor, flying up and down in zigzags as it gathered up twigs and other junk. He watched it without really trying to, without really thinking about what was happening. Just let his eyes track it.

He laid back after a while, just literally tipped himself backwards until he was flat against the mattress, his feet still planted on the ground. It was nice having a frame low enough you could do that. It wasn’t as if he needed space under his bed, anyway. He had enough storage. He’d thrown an arm over his eyes, the bridge of his nose nuzzled into the crook of his elbow, but he could still hear Clark come in. He didn’t really move, except to twitch a finger in the barest form of hello. The door creaked against its hinges while Clark swung it all the way open and then closed it behind him. He heard it latch in its frame. ‘Click.’

Clark’s shoes didn’t hit against the floor, but there was a vague sound of footsteps. Must have taken his shoes off at the door. He was that kind of guy. Probably an after effect of growing up on a farm. Don’t track mud in the house, and all that. The bed dipped next to where Bruce lay. It wasn’t enough to really offset him, but he purposefully turned into it, rolled onto his side and pulled himself against Clark’s torso. He put an arm around Clark’s waist and pressed his face into his hip. Clark brought a hand to the base of Bruce’s skull, just resting there. It was an awkward position for Bruce, laying on one arm, his neck craned. But it was comfort for his weary heart.

They stayed that way for a while. Probably twenty minutes, breathing in and out, Clark counting heart beats just to pass time. When Bruce finally sat up, a little groggy, he noticed Clark had taken off his glasses. They were folded neatly on the bed a ways away.

“What’re you doing here,” Bruce asked neutrally. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling dusty and tired.

Plainly, Clark told him, “Lois sent me.”

That pulled a chuckle out of Bruce. “I’ll send her a bouquet.”

Clark put his hands in Bruce’s hair and looked at him pensively for a moment, just blinking at him, looking at his eyes, his face. He kissed him sweetly, and drew back, letting his hands fall down towards Bruce’s neck and shoulders. “What’s going on, Bruce?”

He looked away, but it wasn’t something of shame. He pushed a sigh through his nose. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just a low spot.”

Clark kissed him again. Bruce welcomed it, closed his eyes against the press of lips.

“Let me help you feel better,” Clark breathed.

Bruce sunk down and let his head hit against Clark’s chest. There was a heartbeat in there. ‘Beat, beat, beat.’

🦇

Bruce let his hand slide up under his own shirt, looking for purchase against his sweaty ribs. “You know—,” he started, just shy of breathing heavy. “Sex doesn’t actually cure depression.”

Clark smiled at him, crinkling and dimpled. “No—you’d be a lot happier if it did.” He bent down and kissed Bruce below the navel. “I just want to get your mind off things for a bit,” he said, suddenly a little softer, a little quieter.

Bruce hummed, knowing from the start that that’s what this was about. It wasn’t always Clark’s first choice on low days, but this wasn’t the first time he’d thought of it, either. They’d had a long and strange history together, and Bruce has always spent half of it treading water in his own sadness. He let his eyes flutter shut and took in a sweet breath of air as Clark pushed a finger deeper into him.

He liked this part. The quiet, slow touching while he still had his head and could really feel it, could really comprehend moment by moment what was happening. It was gentle and intoxicating at the same time. Clark moved that one finger in and out, steadily, while kissing on his neck, running his free hand over his chest, his torso. He propped himself on an elbow, just lying next to Bruce, and pushed deeper into him. Moved around. Pushed against whatever he could find. In, out, in, out.

He waited until Bruce was really sweating to add in another. He kept it shallow at first, and Bruce whined lightly at the fingers curving into him one-knuckle deep. Clark brushed a hand over the length of Bruce’s dick, and it made his calf tense, twitching up just a touch as he let out his breath. He slid his eyes open and looked at Clark, fish mouthed and red with flush. Clark tried not to let that affect him, inviting as it was. He didn’t really care about getting off this time around.

He went deeper, and he spread his fingers apart a bit, and Bruce sighed, his shoulders winding back into a soft arch. And just as he relaxed back into it, Clark grazed him just right, and he emptied his lungs with a moan. Still slow as ever, Clark drew back and pushed into the same spot, circled over it a moment, drew back and pushed again. Bruce was panting for it, precum dribbling out of his dick and down its shaft.

Quietly, just with just the barest audibility, he breathed, “come on, come on,” while he writhed mildly in his shirtsleeves.

It was like a bullhorn in Clark’s ears, and he smiled wildly at it. He dipped down and kissed on Bruce’s cock, just to make him squirm a bit more before really opening his mouth up. He sucked down to the hilt and Bruce tensed up, every muscle pulling before he carefully stretched out and put his hands in Clark’s hair. He scratched at Clark’s scalp like a nervous tick. Clark swallowed around him and a sound scraped out of Bruce’s throat, his fingers flexing with the force of it.

Clark let himself pull off. “Let yourself go, Bruce,” he said. “You know I can take it.”

He went back down, and as his nose settled in to wiry hair, Clark let the fingers that had been resting inside of Bruce curl. He circled against the bundle of nerves there while he slowly sucked up and down that cock. Bruce let out a long, howling _ooooooooohhhh,_ as Clark moved.

And he let himself go. He gripped at Clark’s hair with one hand and brought the other to curl harmlessly around the back of his neck, and he let his hips rock up into Clark’s face. He huffed out short, rough breaths, his head tipped back, his mouth wet and open. Every twitch of Clark’s fingers was a spark up and down his spine, a delicious twist in his gut. He had practically raised his hips completely off the bed as he humped at Clark’s mouth, just _so_ close to getting where he needed to be, hurried little sounds scraping out of him with more and more urgency.

When he finally came, he curled in on himself, bringing his knees up around Clark’s head and arching his torso forward. Everything in him stopped while he tensed, groaning in a keening cadence while his eyes screwed shut. He fell back to the bed boneless and braindead, his ears ringing. He tried to open his eyes, blinking briefly before letting them shut back again. He felt like he would fall asleep as soon as he caught his breath. Clark ran his cleaner hand up and down Bruce’s side, slow and comforting, before the pressure of his weight lifted from the bed.

He came back and started wiping up Bruce’s stomach with a warm wet washcloth, and Bruce hummed at the feeling, letting his head loll over as he slit his eyes open.

“What about you?” he asked, his voice hitting its lowest register. He was tired and lazy, and sounded it. Clark smiled at him.

“I’ll be okay,” he said, dipping down to kiss Bruce lightly.

Bruce let his eyes fall back shut and he breathed in a sigh, humming again in his contentedness.

“Think you’ll fall asleep?” Clark asked, settling in next to him in bed.

“Mm, I think I will.”

He turned in toward Clark, practically nuzzling into his collar bone while he wrapped an arm around his middle. He breathed against Clark and in a moment, he actually was sleeping. Clark settled his cheek against his head. It was rare for Bruce to fall to sleep so quickly, even like this. He must’ve been thoroughly exhausted to cling so closely and sleep so deeply. He even looked wrung out, his arms draped and lax like a ragdoll, all of his ever-present tension drained out.

🦇

Bruce slept through the night, which was a surprise in its own right. At one point, Clark had fished his phone out of his jacket pocket to let Lois know he wouldn’t be back until morning— at earliest— and bless her heart she hadn’t expected anything else. Bruce was a deadweight for twelve hours, barely even stirring in his sleep except to face away from the window as the sun rose. If he was honest with himself, Clark wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Bruce so dead to the world. On a good night, he slept like death for six hours at a maximum, and then woke alert and moving with more than purpose. More often, he slept fitfully, and spent hours awake in the dark, and then rose in the morning stiffly and stubbornly.

Watching him like this, snoring lightly with a pillow pulled against his chest, Clark was beginning to realize that Bruce didn’t sleep lightly and rise early in the morning out of nature, he did it out of will. What he saw before him was a slow and lazy riser, someone who slept like it was all there was in the world. And there was something Clark rarely saw on Bruce; he was relaxed, and he wasn’t fighting against himself. He just slept.

Eventually, he did begin to stir. At first he just started breathing a little differently, and his heart beat was just a tick faster. He made a noise in his throat and buried his face deeper into his pillow. His heartrate evened back out for a while. Clark felt a bit guilty for so aptly watching him sleep, but he was also just genuinely curious about what was happening. A few minutes ticked by and Bruce shifted again, turning more heavily onto his side and covering his eyes with the meat of his arm. He made another noise. Moved just enough to creak his eyes open and see Clark before burrowing back into his bicep, grumbling.

Clark carded his fingers through Bruce’s hair, fond. “Do you want coffee?”

Bruce made a noise like “ _mmmmmmnnggh.”_

Clark chucked at it, kissed Bruce on the forehead, and went to fetch a bit of coffee.

When he came back in the room Bruce was sitting upright against the headboard with a pillow in his lap, his face scrunched like the sun was in his eyes and being awake was a pain. Clark handed over a mug and smiled at him, a little lovestruck.

“What’s got you giddy?” Bruce croaked.

“It’s just nice to see you well rested.”

Bruce hummed into his cup.

“You must’ve needed the sleep,” Clark said, coming over to sit on the side of the bed. “Had a couple of restless nights lately?”

Bruce blinked lazily. “You could say that.”

This time, Clark hummed in answer.

“Thank you for the coffee,” Bruce said.

Clark leaned in to kiss him. “Well, Alfred made it,” he admitted.

“Oh, I know. I wouldn’t have drank it if you did.”

Clark kissed him again, part of him genuinely wanting to, while another part of him sort of wanted to test how much affection Bruce would give him. “Why’s that?”

Bruce gave him a look. “You make it more than a little too strong.”

Clark laughed a little, then moved to sit in bed next to Bruce, shoulders and hips pressed together. Bruce put his head on Clark’s shoulder, and it was so out of left field it made something stick in Clark’s throat, made his heart jump a little.

“Are you really alright, Bruce?” He asked, quiet. He was suddenly a bit afraid, to feel this, and to see Bruce like this.

“I will be,” he said.

Clark let out a steady breath. “Good,” he mumbled.

Bruce hummed. ‘Mmmm.’

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @batmanarchive


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